


Seven Minutes

by aposse



Series: Seven [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aposse/pseuds/aposse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma and Regina are forced inside a closet to play the (most of the time awkward) game, Seven Minutes In Heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Minutes

No.

 

Her attempt to break up the inappropriate activity had  _not_  come to this.

 

“No.” Regina refuses, and it surprises her the great deal of effort it takes to seem disgusted. She continues to purse her lips at the ridiculous request.

 

“C’mon, Regina. You don’t disobey the bottle.” David pesters, and she can almost feel her skin burn from the alcohol in his breath.

 

Regina just glares at him. He’d explained the rules and she had not been fond of them. “I am not getting in that closet with Sheriff Swan.” She shifts her focus down to the bottle – that traitorous little thing – trailing her gaze from the neck to its base, eyes eventually landing on the spinner. A very quiet Emma Swan sits across from her, hands neatly placed overtop another at the edge of the kitchen island where this game all began. Regina drags her gaze up the woman’s features, a sense of discomfort lining them. She then spreads her glare upon the circle of her citizens.

 

No doubt it had been Ruby to start this game, using the empty bottle of vintage as her tool to matchmake. 

 

No doubt it had been Regina’s fault, also. Her annual party to appease the citizens of Storybrooke had taken a turn for the worse with only five minutes of her absence. Five minutes she reserved every night to tuck Henry in. Five minutes that, over the last months, had turned into five seconds.

 

Tonight had been an anomaly of some sorts. Timidness flared behind her son’s eyes when he asked to be tucked in, causing Regina’s heart to just tug a little and her eyes to water. Just a little. Those five minutes soon turned into ten, and as she walked down the stairs, one hand on the rail with the other at her side, not wanting to erase the memory of her son’s touch on them, she saw it. The remnants of her guests were huddled around her kitchen island, spinning-the-bottle.

 

Regina had managed to situate herself between David and Kathryn when the spinning glass wound down, its neck facing her. The quiet gasps were audible around her, having to hold back her own when she’d realized who spun the bottle.

 

“No.” Regina repeats, shaking away the thoughts of how it all came to this. She tries not to grimace at the drips of red on her counter, crossing her arms over her chest like some petulant child.

 

“It’s just seven minutes.”

 

All heads shift their focus from Regina to the small voice. Emma straightens up at the dark eyes glaring at her, tucking a stray lock of gold behind her ear.

 

“Yes, Miss Swan. It’s seven minutes, with  _you_.” She locks her jaw at the very tempting reality.

 

“It’s either seven minutes with her, or God knows how long with everyone here.” Ruby states, the subtle threat quirking in her brow. “We’re not leaving until then.”

 

Regina’s eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.” The disbelief she casts is nowhere near as powerful as the unity of seriousness aimed her way. She knows when to pick her battles, and this – this battle of outdated peer pressure – is one she knows she can’t win.

 

“Fine.” She says, but not without a little snarl at the end of her relent. Some of the circle rejoices in a quiet round of yeses while others just grin idiotically. “Well?” Regina snaps, eyes narrowing in on Emma. She tilts her head towards the closet and walks over, opening the door as the younger woman shuffles inside.

 

Ruby’s got a stopwatch out, standing in front of the crowd as if she’s the barrier of this soon be crime scene. She flashes a look excitement to both women before she’s blocked by David. Regina and Emma stand there awkwardly, side by side, when he closes the door.

 

The darkness then envelops them entirely and before her eyes can adjust to the lack of light, she’s already irritated.

 

“So..” Emma begins, and she can feel the blonde shift away from her. “Seven minutes.”

 

“It would seem to be less than that.” The seconds tick away in her mind as she taps her foot with impatience. Regina crosses her arms over her chest once more, fingers drumming against the bare skin.

 

“Look, I just wanted to get this over with so we could all go home. When Ruby makes a claim like that, she doesn’t back down. I should know.” Emma scoffs. The voice becomes more distant and then, “Ow!” The sound of metal rings out and a shuffle of fabric follows along with a thud.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Regina turns around blindly, hands reaching out to where her coats hang. Her fingers then come across an empty hanger, and she can still feel the sway of the cold plastic before she grabs onto it.

 

“Oh, I don’t know,  _Regina_.” Emma snaps, “Tripping on your stupid shoes, I guess.”

 

Regina’s bent down in search for her fallen coat, hoping with the little faith she has that it isn’t the expensive grey one, when her hands brush against something they shouldn’t. Despite the very fact that she owns such fabric, the silk feels foreign in her touch. What feels more foreign, Regina decides, is the warmth beneath it. Her fingers graze over taut muscles, the smooth line of her touch dipping down slightly as it comes to –

 

_Oh_. That’s a naval piercing.

 

Regina pulls away as if she’s been burned, but it’s nowhere near as dramatic as the gasp that escapes in front of her.

 

“What the – Regina? Was that you?”

 

“ _No_ ,” Regina drawls. “It was David.” She rolls her eyes despite the dark, pulling up her dress a little as she settles uncomfortably on her knees. Her hands continue their search for the fallen coat.

 

“Uh, what are you doing?” She can feel the confusion in the woman’s words.

 

“You seemed to have knocked down my coat.” Regina retorts. Eyes having adjusted to the dark, she finally finds it, silently damning the blonde that it indeed had been the grey one. She sets it back in its rightful place and grips the metal bar.

 

“Six minutes.”

 

“What?”

 

“Six minutes.”

 

“Oh. Do you mind helping me up?” Emma then asks. “I’m a little dizzy.. from the wine and from the fall, I guess.”

 

Regina sighs. “ _Really_ , Miss Swan?”

 

“Look, I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t need to, Regina.”

 

“The fact that your ability to stand on your own has been mitigated by a few glasses of wine and a –” Then she feels it. Hands. On her ankles.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asks incredulously, stunned at the other woman’s bravery.

 

“Getting up. If your hands won’t help me, the rest of your body will.” The grip on her ankles then releases and drags swiftly up to her calves, then her knees.

 

“Miss Swan..” Regina warns, and though she has the ability to literally kick the woman in the face, not a single muscle on her bones move. She’s frozen by the touch and when those strong hands grab at her hips, she increases her grip on the metal rack to save her own fall.

 

There’s a tingle in the touch, a little something extra that Regina knows is not for the sake of getting up. She holds back what she’ll later find out is between a whimper and a groan, part for the pleasure of the touch, part for the realization that she’s actually  _enjoying_  the touch. The hands then become braver than anything she’s ever known and in an instant they’re at her waist. Emma’s at her side now, gripping onto her with the strength like she’s afraid she’ll lose her balance, but Regina knows. Her breath is hot and close, and when she hears her name whispered against her ear her knees almost buckle.

 

“Regina..” Emma says, and it stuns the older woman when she feels that pleasurable itch between her legs.  _No_. This really can’t be happening. She is  _not_  stuck in a closet with Emma Swan and she is  _not_  becoming aroused.

 

But then the thumbs on her waist move in circles, massaging her in a way that the jolt turns into waves of pleasure riding down her legs and that’s it. She knows what’s about to happen and she really can’t bring herself to stop any of it.

 

Then her name is being called again, and those hands explore further, higher, “Regina,” It’s breathed more heavily onto her neck, hummed with a desire so thick that she has to close her eyes, shutting them hard that flashes of colour begin to appear. Really, Regina’s done for.

 

“You have five minutes, Miss Swan.” Her voice is hoarse because that’s all she can really say, and that’s all Emma really needs. Regina’s doubt never leaves her thoughts, and as muddled as they can get from the wandering hands, the time continues to tick in her head. She’s still gripping on the metal bar when Emma rounds her, pressing the front of hips against the back of hers. Regina can almost feel the skin on her knuckles rip when she feels a wet kiss at the base of her neck.

 

The hands then grip her at her breasts, massaging them through the fabric she now sees as an enemy. But she knows it wouldn’t be a wise choice to rid of clothing with such little time. Her nipples, though, don’t seem to mind, pebbling instantly at the touch. Regina holds her breath when one hand trails lower, mindfully lifting the hem of her dress higher with caution. The blonde makes up for it with another kiss to her neck, and Regina bites back a moan when she feels teeth graze the wet skin. Emma wraps an arm around Regina’s waist, one hand gripping possessively at her breast as the other trails up bare thighs. It’s then Regina becomes grateful that all her stockings are in the laundry.

 

“Four minutes.” Regina pants, keeping her voice low.

 

Emma rests her chin on her shoulder. “Oh, we won’t be needing that long.” It’s all she says before crossing that barrier – before her fingers delve beneath the thin fabric stained with Regina’s arousal. The hand at her breast then goes up to silence the involuntary moan. It’s cupped over her mouth so her lipstick doesn’t rub off, and to thank the younger woman for such consideration, Regina temporarily releases her grip on the metal to guide Emma’s fingers between her lips.

 

Two hook onto the bottom half of her teeth as she feels two enter her, and she bites down. Her tongue soothes the sudden pain caused, and she hums in pleasure when a steady rhythm is set below.

 

Regina rocks her hips back, wanting more,  _needing_  more, and she can’t believe she’s doing this. She can’t believe she’s in a closet with the woman she’s despised ever since setting foot in her town. Can’t believe that she’s grinding against the hips that hold authority with the badge of the man who’s heart she crushed to dust. She can’t believe she’s actually  _enjoying_ it; that she’s only a few strokes away from screaming out in ecstasy, a door no thicker than her heels separating them from all of Storybrooke.

 

Regina can’t believe any of it but damn her to Hell if Emma Swan’s fingers aren’t the greatest things she’s ever felt. In this world and the other.

 

“Two minutes.” Emma breathes, her own voice rough, thick with lust.

 

Regina’s eyes fly open, astonished at the fact that she’s lasted so long with fingers this deft. The hand presses flat against her center, and it’s then she realizes that she’s spoken too soon. Her jaw slacks wide open, the hot air that escapes pushing Emma’s fingers deeper, seeking the comfort of her tongue. Regina lapses onto the fingers with the little order left in her mind as the other fingers inside her thrust harder, deeper.

 

She tries not to bite  _too_  hard when the hand between her legs moves in circles. The base of Emma’s hand grinds against her swollen nub and  _fuck_  she’s so wet she can almost  _hear_ every push inside.

 

And then it happens.

 

Her knees buckle and she’s nearly hanging off the coat rack when her orgasm rips through every inch of her body. The fingers inside her continue to thrust, pushing her up to stand straighter but it fails. Emma’s taken her hand out of Regina’s mouth and is gripping at her waist, lowering them slowly on the floor with the hopes of not making too much noise.

 

Then Regina’s sitting down and against the blonde, bucking her hips to the touch as her legs spread wider with greed. Her hands grip at the thighs she’s settled in between, and they fly up to wrap around Emma’s neck as Regina rides out the last waves of her orgasm. She arches her back at the slight pinch of her nipple, pulling at the hair tangled in her fingers as she finally opens her eyes.

 

It’s still dark, but she knows it won’t last for much longer.

 

Regina rises, willing herself to stand despite the weakness in her knees and reaches her hands out towards the woman still sitting.

 

“Oh,  _now_ you’re helping me up?” Emma says, reaching out and taking the offer. She makes a move to let go, to straighten herself up but Regina only tightens her grip. She raises the hand to her face, and though it’s barely visible to her she does it anyway. She takes the fingers she bucked against into her mouth, the taste of her own arousal sufficing her hunger for more.

 

Regina presses Emma against the wall. “One minute..” She begins, “Is not enough for what I have in store for you, Miss Swan.” The heat emanating from the younger woman’s center doesn’t go unnoticed, and Regina grinds mercilessly against it.

 

“ _Oh_.” Emma moans quietly. “What exactly do you have in store for me, Madam Mayor?” The grin is not lost on her despite the dark, and it takes all of her self-control to not wipe it off with her still red lips.

 

“If you stay tonight, I can show you.” Regina offers timidly, hiding her own surprise at the softness in her words.

 

The voices they hear outside break them apart. “You have roughly ten seconds to make up your mind, Miss Swan.” Regina says, pushing down her dress as she brushes a few feathers of her hair back into place.

 

“Tonight.” Emma agrees, straightening up as she wipes her fingers against the back of her jeans. “Because you owe me.”

 

“Oh, I hardly believe this will measure up to later.” Regina then crosses her arms over her chest as she had before, the voices on the other side counting down the last couple of seconds. “You’ll just have to make it up to me another time.”

 

The door then swings open at her final words, leaving a composed mayor and slack jawed sheriff for Storybrooke to see.


End file.
